


Quicksilver in Camelot

by MountainRose, TheMadThing



Category: Merlin (TV), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen, Humor, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6772393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainRose/pseuds/MountainRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadThing/pseuds/TheMadThing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Maximoff gets accidentally time-travelled to Arthurian England and meets Prince Arthur and Merlin. Shenanigans ensue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quicksilver in Camelot

**Author's Note:**

> MountainRose and I wrote most of this ages ago, and after finding it languishing in the back of my Google drive we decided to polish and post it, so here you go. 
> 
> MR: This is Mads' idea, and her babe, I just poked it along, :D give her all the love!

It was the purple light that drew Merlin's attention. He'd been on a hunting trip with Arthur and the Knights and he'd noticed a purple light shining through the trees. Thankfully nobody else had seen and he'd been able to slip away to find the source. It had vanished before he got there, but in its place there was a boy, about Merlin's age, lying unconscious on the ground and wearing strange, foreign clothes.

"Arthur!" He called over his shoulder.

"What?"

"You might want to see this." 

Arthur soon joined him, his horse leaning down to snuffle at the boy’s strange, white hair, and looked down at the boy. "Alive?" 

Merlin shrugged his assent. "Unarmed, too."

"We'll take him back to the city," Arthur decided, motioning to one of the Knights to take him, "we can find out who he is when he wakes up."

The knight lifted him easily, though none too carefully, and Merlin winced at the sharp angle of the boys neck, hurrying forwards to prop him in a more comfortable position. 

"Here, put him on my horse, I'll prop him ahead of me." 

Merlin ignored Arthur's incredulity; Merlin was quite sufficient a horseman for this, _thank you, Arthur._

\----------

When Peter came round it was to a circle of unfamiliar faces.

He ached pretty extensively, particularly his ass and knee, and had strips of cloth binding his arms, to an uncomfortable wooden chair-- which he blamed for at least 90% of his discomfort. Weird, portal, dimensional rift-y bullshit could have the other 10%. His legs were similarly bound, damnit, --not that the cloth was uncomfortable; it was better than rope-- and he couldn't get any leverage or wriggle to loosen them, even when he buzzed his fastest, they just flexed in place.

So, escape was, for the moment, out of the question. One of the men, who appeared to be wearing chain mail and a really _badass_ arm guard stepped forwards; they didn’t _seem_ to have noticed his attempts to escape, he’d been moving too fast to see so it wasn’t that weird, but they’d tied him up pretty thoroughly for people who legit had no idea.

"Who are you?" the man demanded, "And how did you get here?"

"I don't really know the science of it, it's kinda like magic to me only it's obviously not ‘cause magic doesn't exist but I'm not a scientist so I can't explain it and it went wrong anyway so doubly so and-" his voice was abruptly cut off by a hand over his mouth.

"Slow down and stop babbling," the man said. "Firstly, who are you?"

"My name's Peter, or Quicksilver, or-" the man interrupted him.

"I am Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot." 

For once Peter was rendered speechless.

\----------------------------------

It was a fruitless few hours later that Arthur gave up interrogating the stranger, Quicksilver. 

All he'd learnt for his pains was that Peter had no idea how he'd got there, and simultaneously seemed to be confused that Arthur wasn't King while having no idea where he was. It was all very queer. To have no idea and _still_ have preconceptions? To blurt out knowledge of Merlin, and yet know nothing of Arthur’s father the King?

Eventually he'd come to the conclusion that the stranger was mad. Harmless, essentially, and little more than a confused child, trusting that they wouldn’t do him harm. It was like he saw their swords as curiosities, their armour as nothing more than an affectation. 

But he _was_ harmless and Arthur ordered him untied and given a room in the castle, since he appeared completely unaware of the fact that he could engender a beating, or a murder, with his careless, sloppy turns of phrase. Arthur felt it prudent to keep an eye on him as much as possible.

This proved to be _impossibly_ difficult. 

For some reason even his most observant Knights were unable to keep track of the stranger around the castle. A glance away, and the man would be gone, or have something in hand from the other side of the room, or even the castle! He seemed to have little regard for personal possession, though that did mean he gave things back when asked. Bar the _eyes_ , with God as his Witness, Arthur would not be blamed if he cuffed the damned enigma around the ears if he saw one more of his knights fold under the strange power of Peter’s pleading.

He seemed to travel around without any regard for the distances between where he was and where he wished to go, although locked doors seemed to confound him. Arthur suspected that this was only due to some sense of propriety otherwise completely absent from his demeanor.

By the end of the first day, Arthur decided to ask Merlin to investigate the possibility of magic being involved after all; the incomprehensibility of his appearance --the light, and his bafflement-- implied at least some measure of magic involved, for all Peter called it Alchemy. 

Despite his many incompetencies, Merlin did seem to be the person to go to about magic; Arthur suspected he had some strange servant-class information network that permitted him to investigate such things. Also, with judicious application of a grin and back slapping, he could be induced to spend hours amongst Gaius' books, researching whatever he believed Arthur needed. 

However, three days later Merlin still could not figure out how Peter did it. All he would say was that magic was not involved, though how he was so sure of that was a mystery to Arthur. Peter seemed to remain as genuinely clueless about his arrival in the Royal Woods as he had originally professed to being, and refused to explain how he travelled so fast, claiming they wouldn't believe him anyway.

He had also refused to give up his incongruously metallic jacket, though he agreed to wear normal clothes underneath when his strange, overly soft garments became too crusted with horse manure and mud to be respectable. 

He did look quite strange, though he managed to pull it off, God knows how. The jacket was a source of endless fascination to Merlin. It appeared to be steel on first glance but it was actually fine leather, apparently not protective at all, and Merlin puzzled as endlessly about it as he did over his means of travel.

Arthur soon decided that if Peter was to stay then he would need to learn about their world and things so of course he assigned Merlin to teach him. Merlin rolled his eyes when he was told but didn't complain as much as Arthur had been expecting; he'd grown fond of the annoying stranger, or as fond as one could be.

\------------------------------

Peter had had his fun with the whole medieval, ren-faire, horse filled weirdness of this whole experience, seriously. Portal bullshit aside, he had only goosed Kitty, he did not deserve this. He had a room (if you could call it that) with a straw stuffed bag to sleep on, the food was passable, but he was _hungry_ constantly; there was no sugar! Nothing had enough _actual food_ in to keep him going for the full, NYC and back type running he was used to. 

Even _King Arthur_ was a vague disappointment. Sort of. 

Kinda. 

‘Prince’ Arthur was _nice_. And a jock, like, what? _There is no football here_. Or high school. He wouldn’t object to Xavier turning up right about now, but to be fair there was no obligatory foreign language. Except for Ye Olde English, which sounded like the speaker was eating an eel. A German one. 

But anyway, Arthur and Merlin, they were alright. The court was a bunch of weirdos, but Merlin and Arthur, he got them. Merlin was a massive nerd, only without the glasses because _they hadn’t invented glasses yet_. 

Seriously, the guy spent sooooo much time sitting staring at books. At least written english was pretty much the same, though the handwriting was hella weird. 

“Whatchadoin'?” Peter asked again (he wasn’t keeping track, but maybe the third time? judging his speed was hard without his watch) and threw himself onto a chair, knees on either side of the back. 

“Researching you.” The nerd didn’t even look up, and _man_ Peter was bored, so bored, everything here took _days,_ even the conversations. And the pants itched. 

“You won't find aaannyytthiiing.”

“Really? You’ve said. Why don’t you just explain instead insulting my intelligence?” 

Peter is genuinely surprised; he hadn’t thought he was being insulting, just, missing body of scientific knowledge, understanding of biology and everything. “It would take years to get you caught up. We’re lightyears ahead of, y’know, horses and sharp pointy things-- though don't tell that to Wolverine, he likes the sharp pointy things--” 

“Oh my god, you’re out of _time?!”_

Peter’s mouth snapped shut because he was pretty sure that changing the timeline with shit like _knowledge of timetravel_ was a bad idea when you actually wanted to, y’know, go home someday? If Blink ever realised she’d zapped him to Arthurian Britain, and not Outer Kentucky or whatever she’d intended. Too late, though; Merlin was watching him like a hawk.

"Yeah, kinda?" He shifted on his chair, so he could run if he needed to. But Merlin wasn't taking his eyes off, so that sucked. He didn’t want to _actually vanish_ in case they still believed in witches, or wizards. Warlocks? Peter hadn’t studied English history, OK?

"What do you mean 'kinda'? Either you are or you aren't," Merlin insisted, slapping his book closed and sitting back. The whole process took approximately three days, and Peter was so bored of this entire timezone, oh my god.

"Why d'ya have to talk so slow?" he asked, drawing it out comically, at least to his ear. Merlin didn’t seem to notice, ugh.

"Why do you talk so fast?"

"Slow's boooooring." 

“Does everyone talk like you where you’re from? How do you move so _fast_?” 

“Nope, seriouslythey’reprettymuch just as sloooow. And I just do,it’smy au naturelstateofbeing.Not myfaulty’allare sloooooww.”

Merlin shoved all his research crap, pens and ink, and _parchment._ Made of _cowskin. What._ Away and oh hey, they were _going_ somewhere!”

"Well, Arthur wants you to learn to ride a horse; that’s as fast as things get around here. It might keep you entertained for a while. Give me enough time to get my head around...time. Come on." 

\------

In the end it kept him entertained for five minutes. Merlin timed it. Apparently horses were slow too, which Merlin couldn't really argue with since Peter couldn’t stay on the back of one past a walk, though he thought calling the horse that they saw galloping ‘slow’ was a bit much. Sword fighting was also a non-starter. Peter could just run rings around the instructor, literally; and there was Arthur’s explanation for the mysterious appearances and disappearances; Peter was just too quick to see. Merlin gave up when Peter appeared next to him and began demanding food. 

"You've _just_ eaten."

"I mean real food, like sugar food, come on man there must be sugar somewhere in this Castle come on, I need it."

"What do you mean by sugar?"

"Like sweet stuff, ‘oh sugar’,” he hummed a few beats of a strange syncopated music.

"Like honey?"

"Yeah, honey's good, where's the honey, come on." Merlin sighed.

"Come with me." 

\-------------------------------

Merlin was shocked by how much honey Peter could eat in one go. It was truly obscene. He consumed nearly a whole jar of honey in five minutes, and that was one of the massive, porcelain jars the kitchen kept for banquets. Merlin barely stopped him from starting on the other one too, though thankfully it did manage to shut him up for a bit.

They were just leaving the kitchens when Arthur stormed up to them, looking thunderous. 

"You lied to me," he practically growled at Merlin, "you said there was no magic involved with him," jerking a thumb at Peter. 

"What d'ya mean magic, magic's not real," Peter interjected. 

"He's from the future," Merlin explained tiredly, "He's some kind of mythical Hermes or something, he just runs really really fast. Too fast to follow. That's why he vanishes sometimes."

"Why didn't you _say_? That's understandable; I've seen that before on the field, and the tournament. The Eye is slower than the tip of the sword." Arthur had that 'you're mad' expression on his face, the one that he pointed at Merlin constantly, usually when some act of warlockery had slipped under his radar. Peter should be grateful that Merlin had trained the good prince in the art of ignoring the bizarre. 

"My swordmaster is in the chapel because of you, praying for his sight. Merlin, remind me to get him sorted out before days end?" 

Merlin nodded with a gesture of assent that aped a proper bow.

"If you're simply fast, how did you get here? You just ran from the sunrise?" Merlin wasn't sure if Arthur was being serious or not, but it was a fair question.

"Nah, I got sent back with like a portal thingy by my friend, she can make them but I think she made a mistake or something 'cause there's no way she deliberately sent me to Arthurian England. I hope." It was like he was speaking a foreign language, his dialect contained a great many words that were simultaneously familiar, and used completely out of appropriate context. 'Arthurian'?

Beside him, Arthur sighed and turned to lead them away from the kitchens. Merlin followed, of course, since he hadn't been dismissed, and Peter trailed along when it was clear that Arthur wasn't done asking questions.

"How long are you likely to be here?"

"Hopefully not too long, feel like I've been here years already you all move so slowly, why are you so slow man like come on."

Arthur sighed again. Merlin sympathised; he hoped it wouldn't be too long too, though for quite a different reason. By the look of it most of the castle shared this perspective, as vassals and knights both shot them distrustful looks on their way to the Prince's rooms.

\------------------------------

It was a few days later that Peter met Morgana. It was quite a surprise to her as before he'd just run past her at full speed so when he suddenly appeared next to her in a corridor it startled her somewhat. 

"You must be Peter," she said when she'd recovered a little, "Arthur's been telling me about you."

"Really? What's he been sayin'? What's he said? Come on tell me."

"You talk very fast," she commented lightly. 

"Nah, you're just slow." Morgana raised an eyebrow, feeling tempted to curse him, even after spending less than a minute of talking to him. 

"Arthur certainly wasn't exaggerating your rudeness."

"I'm not rude, just honest. You are slow. Everyone's slow. It's so boooooring." And with that he was off again. 

Oh she was _absolutely_ going to curse him, right back to wherever pit of hell he came from.

\----------------------------------

Merlin was completely unsurprised when he entered the boy’s room one morning to find that he’d vanished overnight. He left nothing but a hurriedly scrawled, almost indecipherable note. It _may_ have said ‘GBWY’, like the monks of the eastern marches would write. It was either that or ‘help’ Merlin decided, and knowing the boy’s speed and improbable arrival he couldn’t imagine anyone getting the drop on the slippery little bugger.

He shrugged and, note in hand, went to tell Arthur the good news.


End file.
